


Breathe

by Jya



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Darkness, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Frustration, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oikawa Angst Fest 2k17, Potential Triggers, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 03:24:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10402770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jya/pseuds/Jya
Summary: Darkness... It's everywhere. Around me, above me, beneath me, ready to swallow me whole the second I lose my balance. The waves roll over, pounding like thunder, crashing like lightning, shouting I'm coming for you, and there's nothing you can do about it. It's inevitable.That is my mind. My own worst enemy. Why am I like this?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShatteredEpiphany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatteredEpiphany/gifts).



> I wrote this a while back when I was feeling really down. Now I'm posting it as a gift to my partner in crime. Woman, you inspire me everyday and I have no idea where I'd be without you <3 
> 
> Depression and anxiety are real, and millions of people suffer from these illnesses every day. Remember you're not alone, and there are resources out there to help you. You are stronger than you know. 
> 
> Proceed with caution... this is a little angsty to say the least.

Do you ever wake up in the morning, drag yourself out of bed, make your coffee, get ready to leave, only to wish you hadn’t? Do you ever begin the day looking forward to something you have planned and then soon after come to dread it? Do you ever find yourself hating something you know you’re supposed to love? Do you ever cry for no reason? Not even no _good_ reason… just no reason at all.

I do.

I won’t be overdramatic and say it happens on a daily basis, but when it does, it’s awful.

My name is Oikawa Tooru, and I’ve been diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety.

That feeling where you constantly think you’ve forgotten something? That’s anxiety. That feeling when you’re nervous about something and you can’t even realize its benefits because you’re busy worrying about the worst possible things that could go wrong, that’s also anxiety. That feeling where you lay awake at night and remember all the embarrassing things that happened or could happen… yep, you guessed it, that’s also anxiety.

Today I called in sick to my seminar class. That’s right, sick. I feel like trash. I have a headache, I’m nauseous or puking or have diarrhea. Why do I say that? Because calling in and saying that I’m not mentally stable enough to be there is not a valid excuse in their eyes. Or in most eyes, for that matter. In all honesty, I’d rather be puking and shitting at the same time. At least you know there’s a reason for that. That can be fixed. That will go away. What goes on in my head, I’m not sure I can fix that. There’s no rational reasoning behind it. And that hurts so much more.

So here I am, lying on my living room floor, wrapped in a blanket with the heater blowing full power at me, staring out the window and watching the snow fall.

There was a time, a time not so long ago, that snow would make me feel more excited than most things. Even if it didn’t snow for long, or if it didn’t stick, just the sight of snow could light up my day like nothing else. And yet right now I feel nothing. The only thing I feel is sad.

What happened? Nothing. At least nothing that should merit this response.

Sure I didn’t get a good morning text from Iwa-chan, but that happens a lot. I live with him. I sleep with him. I know that he loves me. But for some reason, waking up to realize I’d missed him leaving (which also happens more often than not) and not having anything on my phone from him made me a little sad.

Sometimes this happens. I feel sad for no reason. I don’t know why or how.

The thought of sitting through a discussion with my classmates today is toxic. The thought of sitting on the bus surrounded by people is poison to my mind. I’d rather shove needles under my fingernails. I just… can’t today.

My professor seemed to accept that I was sick; just told me to feel better. I want to tell Iwa-chan, but I know how he’ll respond.

He’ll ask if I’m ok, and then when I tell him why, he’ll tell me I should have waited until tomorrow so we could take the day off together.

He wants to understand, thinks he does, but he doesn’t. And I don’t want him to. I mean, I do, but in order for him to understand, he would have to feel it. I would never wish that upon my worst enemy, let alone the man I love. Even so he tries, even when it frustrates him. He says things like ‘don’t worry’ or ‘calm down’ or ‘everything is ok’ because he thinks it helps. It doesn’t, but I love him for trying.

I decide against texting him. Instead I curl tighter in on myself, wishing I could fall back asleep. The fact that I’m on the floor probably doesn’t help, but I can’t bring myself to relocate to my bed or even to my couch.

The snow continues to fall softly around my apartment, the accumulation silencing much of the world around me. It’s beautiful, and I love it, but I can’t feel it.

It’s like I can’t feel anything. The anxious thoughts swirling in my head are like a ward built up around heart blocking any form of happiness or pleasure that might try to sneak through. I don’t understand it. I hate it. I want to feel happy, I really do.

I stare at my phone, opening the app that contains my seminar’s group chat. Should I tell them I’m sick? I stare at one name in particular.

Kageyama Tobio.

I wanted to think things were better between us. Things were awful when we first found out we were playing on the same team together. The coach sat us down together and told us to figure our high school drama out. I thought we had.

Things were good between us for the first month of the semester. Sure they were up and down here and there based on games and practices that had gone well or not gone well, but it feels different now. He often avoids my glances, doesn’t say hello, or anything rather, when we see each other in groups. I also get the feeling that he’s avoiding me. I caught him out of the corner of my eye yesterday in the library and he didn’t come near me or our friends. I feel like that’s abnormal.

Maybe it’s all in my head? It wouldn’t be the first time.

But if it’s not, why is it happening? Did I do something? Should I ask him? Attempt to talk to him? I feel like I’m always the one patching things up. We play on the same team; we _need_ to get along. But what if I’m wrong and there’s nothing going on? Maybe he’s just stressed about something.

Regardless, I can’t help but wonder if I would have made it to my class if he weren’t in it. It’s been weighing on my mind all week.

I decide against texting my whole group, and instead send a quick message to my partner in the class, letting her know I’m sick. She replies with sad faces and hearts, wishing me the best.

I put my phone down and pull my blanket over my head, curing tighter into myself. This is so pathetic. Why am I like this? Why can’t I just function like a normal human being?

I want to be productive today. I took the day off; I should use the time to get on top of all of my homework. I have so many papers due and exams coming up and I’m feeling completely overwhelmed. Yet here I am, unable to even pull myself off the fucking floor.

I can’t even bring myself to eat. I thought about making soup, but there’s a mountain of dishes in the sink, my fault of course, and I can’t convince myself to do them. So I just lie here with my stomach growling.

After what feels like hours, the snow has stopped and it looks like it might rain. Not much has accumulated on the ground, but it’s enough to lighten up the outside world slightly. It’s kind of a nice contrast to what I feel inside.

I should really go for a run. I _know_ that exercise is the best method for deal with these feelings, but it’s ten times harder when I feel like this. It’s been a while since I went for a recreational jog on my own.

Finally after hmm-ing and haw-ing for nearly as long as it took me to get out of bed this morning, I drag myself off the floor, ignore the protesting in my head and my body, and change into shorts, a t-shirt and a pair of sneakers. I pick up my phone, selecting a playlist that I’d put together months ago, and I tuck my keys in my pocket. I’m outside before I can change my mind, and I run.

It doesn’t help.

And that is weird.

It’ exhausting, and nice to get some fresh air, but I still feel awful.

I come home, take a shower, and even manage to do the dishes. I eat a piece of toast, and I manage to open up one of my assignments on my computer.

But the longer I stare at it, the more I realize it’s not going to happen. My face feels sad. I can feel my brow wrinkled anxiously, I can feel my eyes sinking, and my face feels elongated, kind of how an artist might portray someone frowning. I’ve never noticed this before.

Eventually I give up, slamming my computer shut. I throw on a show I’ve seen probably a hundred times, turn the sound on the TV off and dive onto the couch with my giant purple blanket. I remain there until Iwa-chan gets home, just trying to breathe.

“Oikawa, what are you doing home?” He asks, entering the living room.

I tilt my head slowly up to the side, my neck aching from being in one position too long, and make eye contact with my boyfriend. I’ve been waiting for him all day, hoping he can somehow help me lift the darkness, but I have no words. I can’t even speak.

My eyes fill with tears, and I see his expression soften, worry taking over his face. He lowers himself to floor, kneeling in front of me as a sob escapes my lips. He pulls me toward his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck and holds me tightly. His scent and his warmth overtake my senses, and it makes me cry harder. Why am I like this?

“What happened?” He whispers.

I shake my head and continue to cry.

He pulls me closer, then stands up slightly and moves to sit on the couch, effortlessly lifting me into his lap and pulling the blankets around me with him. He makes me feel so small and so well protected.

“It’s ok, just cry,” he says, cradling my face against his shoulder.

And I do. I don’t know why it hurts so much. I’m so lucky to have him and I know it. I’m so lucky for so many things, and yet I still feel like this. What is wrong with me? Why does it hurt like this?

Iwa-chan holds me like that, whispering words of comfort and rubbing circles into my back for who knows how long. I know I’m probably crushing his leg as all my weight is on his left, but he says nothing. Finally my sobbing subsides and he pulls me up to face him.

“You alright?” He asks.

I sniffle hesitantly. Are words going to fail me? “I-I’m not sure,” I finally manage.

“Did something happen?” He asks, his brow knit with concern.

I shake my head. “I just woke up like this.” Fresh tears fill my eyes. I hate that I’m like this. I feel so pathetic, so useless, so stupid. Why couldn’t I just get over it? Why can’t I just be happy? I have a great place to live, I get good grades and I’m almost finished my degree, and I have an amazing boyfriend who loves me, so why am I like this? It’s beyond frustrating. I have nothing to be upset about it!

And yet here I am.

I’m bawling my eyes out for no good reason in the lap of my boyfriend, who is too good for me. I don’t know why he puts up with me like this. It’s stupid.

“Talk to me,” he says.

“I just feel so pathetic,” I finally manage to say, though it comes out more aggressively than I’d intended.

“Shh, don’t say things like that.” He coos.

“It’s true. This is so stupid and I’m tired of it and I just want to feel normal,” I wail, tears spilling down my face as I frantically wipe at them with my already soggy sleeves. I’m overheating now and I can feel myself sweating. I’m bordering on hysteria and I can’t stop the tears again.

“Just cry,” he says, pulling me closer so my head is buried in his muscular shoulder. It’s soft and comforting and I love it, and I cry. “You’ll feel better after,” he whispers in my ear.

He’s right. I do feel better after crying for what feels like well over an hour. I’m sniffly and my eyes are puffy and I feel exhausted, but my head feels better. It’s numb to the pain.

I’m laying on the couch now, my back pressed against the cushions and my head resting on the pillow that Iwa-chan brought from our bedroom. My knees are pulled up as high as they can go, but he’s sitting between them and my elbows petting my shoulder and my hair. It’s soothing, and I lie there with my aching eyes closed.

Iwa-chan stands up and my eyes pop open. I can feel the scared expression on my face. “Where are you going?” My voice is hoarse and tired.

“Just to get you some water.”

I sigh and feel the tension go from my shoulders. I’m still anxious, but more physically than mentally now. Mentally I’m just exhausted. My brain is done. It can hardly connect one thought to the next.

He leans down and kisses my forehead, then heads for the kitchen, returning a minute later with a tall glass of water with ice and a green straw.

“Did you go to class today?” He asks, putting the glass in my hand.

I take a deep breath and pull myself into a half sitting position so my head is high enough to drink. I don’t even realize how dry my throat is until the cool liquid hits it and soothes the cracking burning feeling.

“No,” I say between sips.

“That bad hey?” He asks.

I turn away, still sipping the water, feeling like with each sip, life is returning to me. I rub my eyes again with the back of my hand and sniffle, really hoping the tears are done now.

“Have you eaten?”

“I had toast earlier,” I say, actually feeling proud of that fact. Normally when I get that bad I’m not able to eat.

“How are you feeling physically?’ He asks.

I have to actually think about this for a second. I feel exhausted. My head hurts, my shoulders hurt, my throat hurts from crying and my eyes are burning. I’ve had my contacts in all day despite the crying and eye rubbing.

“My head hurts,” I admit, blinking my eyes rapidly.

“Go take your contacts out,” Iwa-chan says, seeming to have read my mind again.

I nod and drag my body up off the couch. I hear him head into the kitchen and open the fridge. He’s probably thinking about cooking.

The mirror is not kind to me. Not that it ever is, but today is worse. My hair is a mess, sticking up at all the wrong angles, my face is pale and my eyes are swollen and red, not to mention only half open. I look away, twisting off the lids from my lens container. I pop each lens out and drown it in saline solution. My eyes already feel relieved. I don’t know why I didn’t do that after my run.

I head for the bedroom and pull my glasses out of the case before sliding them onto my face. I hate my glasses. They look like crap, they never stay clean and they get in the way of _everything_.

I glance over at the closet and decide my shirt feels disgusting after sweating in it. I tear it off and replace it with a long sleeved t-shirt. I don’t even think this is mine, granted the arms and the torso are much too wide for me. Iwa-chan’s body is way more muscular than mine. It has to be his. There’s something comforting about it though and I wrap my arms around myself before heading back to the kitchen.

“What are you making?” I ask, feeling my throat burn with the words.

“Chicken noodle soup,” he informs me. My favourite.

I approach him at the counter where he’s chopping vegetables and tossing them into a pan already sizzling with onions, garlic and butter. The smell is amazingly potent and it ignites my senses and injects a little more life back into me. I wrap my arms loosely around his waist and lean my cheek into his shoulder. “Thanks, Iwa-chan.”

He stops what he’s doing and turns in my grasp to face me. “Is that my shirt?”

“Probably,” I say, hugging him close now.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me close. “Feel any better?” He asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” I whisper.

“Go sit down. I’ll be done here in a minute.” He kisses me gently on the lips and releases me. I do as I’m told, seating myself on the couch where I can see him. My head feels fuzzy, like the waves of pain and emotion are still swirling around inside but my senses are dead to it. They’ve exhausted themselves, become fully saturated with feeling and they’re just done. It just feel cold, like a dark cloud is hovering around me and I can’t escape.

He joins me a few minutes later, pulling me close again.

“Talk to me, Tooru. What’s on your mind?” He’s rubbing my back again, holding me close to him so I can’t see his face, but I know what his expression looks like. He’s concerned and he doesn’t know what to do.

“I just… I hate feeling like this. I don’t know what brings it on or why it happens and it makes me feel so… weak,” I admit, trying to articulate what I’m feeling. I guess that’s the best way to describe it, but it’s so painfully blunt. I like to think I’m more expressive than that normally.

“Weak? Is that what you think you are?” Iwa-chan asks, his tone sounding shocked. He pulls me to face level and his confirms it. He’s actually surprised by that response.

I watch him, confused. I thought it was obvious. How else can you describe me? “Yeah. I have no control over my feelings and it’s stupid.” I glance away, feeling embarrassed.

“Tooru, if someone has cancer, does that make them weak?”

“No.”

“Then why do you feel that way? You of all people know what depression is. You know what anxiety is. You were diagnosed by a health care _professional_ , so why would you think like that?”

I force my expression away from him, feeling like his eyes are piercing me. “I don’t know. It’s just frustrating, ok?”

His tone softens, as does his posture. “I know,” he says, hugging me again. I feel like a ragdoll, and my eyes prickle with tears again. Fuck this is so stupid!

I sniffle and he hugs me tighter, clearly realizing I’m crying again.

“Tooru, please believe me when I tell you that you’re not weak,” he says. His tone is filled with desperation now. “The things you battle with everyday, I can’t even imagine. I get frustrated with daily tasks and my brain _doesn’t_ work against me like yours does.” He strokes the back of my neck, running his fingers through my hair and clenches my shoulder.

“You’re the strongest person I know. I see what you go through every day. I see the battles you fight in your own mind, and I have no idea how you do it. So please, don’t you dare call yourself weak.”

I pull back from him at these words, my eyes wide as I take in his expression. He’s completely 100% serious. “You mean that,” I whisper.

“Of course I do,” he says. Now he looks like he might cry.

He doesn’t understand. He never could and he never will. He has no idea what really goes on in my head. Yet here he is trying. He’s always trying. I never want him to see things from my perspective. Never. But somehow his words make me feel like he gets it and that alone feels amazing. He’s always taken care of me since we were kids. And here he is now taking care of me still; in a way I didn’t think he could.

“I love you, Iwa-chan,” I wail, diving for him now.

“I love you too, Tooru,” he says, fully accepting me as I jump at him.

And in that moment, I know I’ll be ok. One way or another.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3


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